It was my birthday and I was in Chihuahua, the last place in Mexico that I wanted to be. The city had been all over the news. Worried about the number of students who head to Mexico for spring break, in March the U.S. State Department had issued a travel warning that strongly advised against travel to Mexico, stating, among other things, the following:

“Recent violent attacks have prompted the U.S. Embassy to urge U.S. citizens to delay unnecessary travel to parts of Durango, Coahuila and Chihuahua states and advise U.S. citizens residing or traveling in those areas to exercise extreme caution. Drug cartels and associated criminal elements have retaliated violently against individuals who speak out against them or whom they otherwise view as a threat to their organizations. These attacks include the abduction and murder of two resident U.S. citizens in Chihuahua.“

Admittedly, I was nervous, but I had no choice. At the end of my Copper Canyon tour I was bound for the town of Zacatecas in central Mexico and the only reasonable way to get there was to take a bus from Chihuahua. And so, I gritted my teeth, steeled myself against fear, and stepped aboard a bus to Chihuahua, telling myself I’d be OK if I didn’t go out at night and took all the normal precautions.The bus arrived in Chihuahua at dusk and let us off in the central business district, next to an entire square city block that had been razed.  Cars zoomed up and down the main boulevard but there were few pedestrians in sight. I looked across the barren lot to the lights of hotels on the other side and briefly considered picking my way through the chunks of concrete littering the site until common sense kicked in; I had only the name of a hostel I hoped would have a room available and no idea how to find it. Fortunately, at that very moment a taxi driver picked up my bag and ushered me to his vehicle.The ride was four whole blocks and he charged me $40 pesos, amounting to nearly $1 US per block, but since the driver waited until the hostel owner confirmed she had a room he was worth every last centavo.

The next morning I let myself out the double set of locked metal doors and headed out to investigate. By day, Chihuahua was a different place. I strolled the two blocks to the city’s massive cathedral and wandered around the central square. Women pushed baby strollers and children chased pigeons around the square. Office workers in crisp suits sat for a quick shoeshine before hurrying to their jobs. Tourists clustered around guides, straining to hear the history of Chihuahua over the din of traffic. Nowhere was there a hint of danger.

Chasing pigeons in Cathedral square

I crossed the street and leaned against the walls of the Palacio del Gobierno – the municipal offices of the Governor of the State of Chihuahua – hoping to take a photo of the entire Cathedral square, but try as I might I couldn’t catch a break in the pedestrian and vehicle traffic. I was about to give up when a young man approached me and asked if I would like to come into the Governor’s offices to take a photo from a second floor window overlooking the square. Jorge, who worked in the public relations office, ushered me into private offices where legislative meetings take place and threw the shutters wide, inviting me to take all the photos I wished. When I’d had my fill, he presented his business card and insisted I call him if I needed anything during my time in Chihuahua.

Board room of the Palacio del Gobierno, Chihuahua, Mexico

Cathedral and Plaza de Armas from the second floor of the Palacio del Gobierno

This type of courtesy was repeated time and again during my three day stay in Chihuahua. On my way back from a museum another young man who was washing cars on the street greeted me and we struck up a conversation. He had been a police officer in Copper Canyon until recently and he wanted to practice his English; he also gave me his number and told me to call if I needed any help. Back at Cathedral square, two teens insisted I take their photo, one posing like a muscle man, arms raised to flex biceps. “You tell everybody we are Chihuahuasenses!” they grinned. Even when I walked into the Quality Inn San Francisco Hotel unannounced, inquiring if I could see rooms in order to write a review, I was treated like royalty. Not only did I see rooms, I got a tour of the entire hotel was invited back to have breakfast in their restaurant Continue reading →

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